Chapter 311: Everything is destined; nothing is controlled by us!

How fast can an American reporter run?

Bolt TMD comes, and they can't even catch a whiff of the action.

When Richard James Curl was carried out, the doorway was packed with people, even reporters climbing up the pipes to grab the scoop.

"Mr. Clark, is the deceased CIA Director Richard?" a blonde bombshell asked the emerging FBI chief, thrusting the microphone forward.

Dressed in an outfit that was quite "ambitious," Clark glanced over; the reporter gave him a meaningful look, their eyes locking.

What a spectacle...

Dogs in heat!

"Sorry, I cannot disclose that." Clark's eyes flickered, his words evasive, signaling his staff to load the body into the hearse.

The reporters didn't give a damn; they were convinced it was the CIA big shot, swarming in, some even trying to pull off the sheets.

An FBI youngster tried to intervene but was held back by a seasoned colleague who gave him a knowing look.

With the boss standing there, arms crossed, why rush in?